


The Five Times that Peter Parker Met Steve Rogers (and the time he met Captain America)

by Ash_Cassidy97



Category: Daredevil (TV), Daredevil-All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Autistic Peter Parker, BAMF Michelle Jones, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Multi, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Female Character, We need to make that a thing, again how are these not tags???, at no point is it graphically happening, autistic matt murdock, honestly-the title should be 'no no i'm not stalking peter sam I'm helping', like all of the story is relatively fluffy for the marvel fandom, look we all check the dumpsters for wayward heroes that's just how it goes here, the matt and foggy codependency show, the rape is talked about, the steve and bucky codependency show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97
Summary: The various times that Peter interacts with Steve after the Accords and his general angst about Tony therein.aka "Sam, I'm not stalking him. I'm just keeping an eye on the little guy. Shut up! You'd do the same."-Bucky & Steve & Matt





	The Five Times that Peter Parker Met Steve Rogers (and the time he met Captain America)

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any questions about the warning, you can always comment and ask before reading.

After the Accords, it was all awkward, in the way that the Avengers were still throwing hissy fits in the streets, instead of, you know, doing their goddamn job. And Peter, once he got all the facts, firmly came down on the side of Captain America, because fuck all that bullshit of blaming World War II veterans.

 

Not that it was any of his affair.

 

It wasn’t.  He wasn’t exactly best buddies with Stark after learning about Cap. Peter couldn’t let that go as easily as some other things.

 

He found Cap anyway, after dumpstering his way to Matt’s. It makes more sense if you know about Matt’s nasty habit of winding up in the dumpster. So, Peter (along with Foggy) had developed the more fortunate habit of checking dumpsters on the way to Matt’s, just to be sure. And if he picked up an untouched sandwich, well, that was his affair.

 

He’s just about to pull a _pristine_ turkey and mayo from under two rotten bananas when he hears a whimper. Peter freeze, mid chomp. He carefully places the sandwich in his bag, fully aware Matt’s going to give him shit about it (lightly mentioning it to Foggy and then hearing the fireworks go off).

 

“Hey, buddy, are you okay there?” Peter asks, looking at the dumpster.

 

“Ow,” comes the response.

 

Peter jumps knee deep into trash. He scrambles for a second before pulling out a filthy man, who must’ve had blond hair a while back. Probably. They manage to stagger out of the dumpster. The guy’s clutching some creature under his arm.

 

“What’s that?” Peter asks.

 

“Somebody threw a puppy away. I couldn’t leave him.”

 

“Course you couldn’t. Easy, man.” Peter props the guy up. And Peter doesn’t like making assumptions, but he’s a little doubtful the guy doesn’t live under a bridge. Peter steers them to a curb.

 

“Thanks.” The guy runs his hands over the puppy, trying to get the worst of the muck off. “Oh, uh . . .Steve.” He shakes Peter’s hand.

 

“Peter. Hey, my friend’s place is literally two blocks from here if you wanna clean up a little.”

 

“Uh, you sure?” the guy asks, and yeah, okay once in a while New Yorkers are pretty good people.

 

“Uh, you just dove through a dumpster for a puppy. I’m sure.”

 

Peter leads the way to Matt’s. It’s not like the guy can’t talk care of himself or anything. The puppy is still whimpering. Peter’s a bleeding heart alright.

 

“Hey, Matt, this is Steve. You got some spare clothes we can borrow?”

 

“Course I do. Nice to meet you,” Matt greets. He shakes Steve’s hand. They all wash up, even the puppy, which Matt regards with a disgusted look on his face. It’s only after they all sit down to Matt’s attempt at pasta that Peter realizes that Steve is STEVE RUCKING ROGERS. Not that Peter was a crazy fan or anything.

 

“So,” Matt goes. “How goes school?”

 

“Huh. Oh, I have a report due tomorrow, and the Accords were total bullshit.” He’s pretty subtle, he thinks. Real subtle. Somewhere Ned just facepalmed.

 

“What?” Matt asks, but Steve turns bright red.

 

“They so were, and really the government had no reason to-” he gets out in a rush.

 

“Peter, it’s fine. At least it’s over,” Steve says. But Peter keeps running his mouth.

 

“And I’m sure that everybody involved in the Accords deeply regrets their actions and-” Matt kicks him under the table. “And I’m shutting up now.”

 

Steve smiles a little bit. “It’s fine, Peter. Really.”

 

“Right. Okay. Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.” And somehow, with all the repetitions, Peter wasn’t buying it. “So you’re a lawyer?” Steve asks Matt, trying to change the subject.

 

“Yeah. I do alright.” Matt smiles a little bit.

 

And somehow the weirdness goes away. Matt wouldn’t feel weird if it gave him a lapdance. He wouldn’t. Probably. But that’s Foggy’s area, not Peter’s. Nope. Definitely not.

 

“You good from that last uh legal battle?” he asks because if Peter was good at not being That Guy he wouldn’t be wearing spandex every night.

 

“Yes,” Matt snaps. “Foggy stick you up to this?”

 

“What? Noooo. I was in the  . . . neighborhood, and then I fished Steve out of a dumpster.”

 

“What were you doing in a dumpster?” Matt asks, ready to dive into his overprotective tendencies.

 

“Uh . . .not much?” Peter attempts. Matt snorts. “Let’s not in front of Cap? The guy has enough on my plate without you causing a domestic scene.”

 

“Wait, are you dating?” Steve asks. Matt makes the choking sound that’s his version of laughing. Peter falls off his chair laughing, and moans when he bangs his elbow against the floor.

 

“No,” Matt says, recovering faster than Peter. Peter gets back in the chair. “He’s one of the interns that helps out around the office. It’s a school thing.”

 

“Largely, I fix their copier machine.” And occasionally, very occasionally because Matt has Opinions about him helping, he upgrades Matt’s technology for his other job.

 

Somehow they all get through it. Steve leaves, taking the puppy with him. Matt holds Peter back a moment. “Dumpsters?” Matt asks soft, and he’s one of the few who can get away with it.

 

“It’s been . . .it’s been a rough week. May’s been. She’s been sick, and can’t work, so I-it’s fine, Matt! It’s fine!”

 

“Okay. You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

 

Peter did. He really did. But Matt, for all his daredeviling, was still a broke ass lawyer who usually got paid in fish and, more typically, insults, and that was when he won the case. It’s not like Peter can keep living off Matt for the rest of his life. So he works two jobs, and the Stark “Internship” was paid, but well, that’s no longer an option. Peter, being morally rich, can’t work for a man like that.

 

And he took Matt’s food when he patched Daredevil up. He could help with that. And the other Defenders weren’t any better off financially. And also he’s pretty sure that Jessica Jones eats one meal a week . . . if that. So really, Peter’s the most socially integrated of all the superheroes. Besides Sam. But he’s never met Sam. During interviews, Sam is the most socially integrated, but maybe he murdered somebody that he shouldn’t have  . . . or failed to rescue orphans from a burning building or-

 

“I know,” Peter says, with all the things running through his head.

 

“Okay.” Matt touches his shoulder. “Be safe out there. Cap’s waiting for you on the steps. He smells nervous.”

 

“Thanks.” He leaves.

 

Peter and Steve walk four blocks before they part ways. They don’t try to talk. Peter mostly succeeds at it too.

 

The second time Peter meets Steve Rogers it’s at a free clinic. Free clinics aren’t well funded, but occasionally, Peter pulls-well-really it’s a Matt, and needs stitches in an inconvenient location when Ned’s busy or something. So, he takes the long walk down to the free clinic, attempts to find a doctor who won’t look to closely, and slide the whole thing past Aunt May. And, if he’s very lucky, it even works. Sometimes.

 

Aunt May has enough to worry about.

 

Steve Rogers is the guy in front of him. He’s propping up a friend who _looks_ normal. Peter’s not buying it. He nearly turns around and walks out, but well-bleeding from between his shoulder blades over rules common sense. He sighs and taps Steve on the shoulder.

 

“Oh-hey, Peter.”

 

“Hey, Steve. What’s up?”

 

“Clint-” the other guy waves a hand- “got into a fight with the people who used to own that puppy.”

 

“You tracked them down?” Peter asked.

 

“They fucking deserved it,” he spits. “They also formally regret their actions.”

 

“And are currently hospitalized,” Steve adds in a somewhat reprimanding manner, but more in the fashion parents have when their kid is in the principal’s office after punching one of the school’s jackasses. Peter knows the tone intimately. Although, May’s usually disappointed that he beat her to it, the few (very few, honest) times it’s happened.

 

“Yes.” Clint sounds much more delighted. “Why are you here, kid?”

 

“I fell down some stairs.” A second too late he realizes exactly what that sounds like. Steve immediately gets a concerned look on his face, it looks like America is worried over his well being. “No-no, not like that.”

 

“You were in a dumpster the first time I met you,” Steve argues back, still worried.

 

“What? No, I was just looking for-uh things that can be recycled?” He can’t keep the question out of his voice. Clint snorts, but he also looks concerned.

 

“Peter Luis,” a doctor calls. And Peter hastily makes his exit, tripping over three things and hastily recovering his footing only to trip over literally nothing. There was nothing on the ground in a two foot radius.

 

“We need to keep an eye on him,” Peter catches Clint saying that before the doctor closes the doors, and Peter forces himself to get back on track.

 

After that, Peter sees Steve more around him, at a distance. It’s a little like being followed by a giant, apple-pie smelling eagle. Not really. Well, a little bit. At least Steve is wearing a T-shirt and, for some god awful reason, a cap. Steve Rogers graduated from the Clark Kent Academy of Concealing Your Identity (probably Summa Cum Laude). Peter largely ignores him.

 

Ignore the problem. Hope it goes away. It’s always been his strategy.

 

So, the third time Peter meets Steve Rogers he’s under a car with a civilian underneath him, currently and violently having a panic attack.

 

Today is not a good brain day. It started with cereal being too crunchy and rough, followed by his shoes screeching across the tile floor, and then Ned was out sick, and he couldn’t focus through gym because of the lights, not to mention all the other kids in small, confined spaces. And all of this led to him walking home from school, not being able to focus beyond his music blasting and one tile length away from his feet. His arms feel weighted and heavy, and his feet don’t feel tied to the ground like they should and nothing, absolutely _nothing_ is helpful the volume, texture, color or anything. Except his music. And Ned’s hoodie.

 

A gunshot goes off. He grabs the closest person and rolls them under the car, earbuds falling out. The asphalt is hot and gritty; the person is saying words that he can’t focus on. Peter feels so dumb, lying there on the asphalt, but he can’t not keep that person from running back into the gunfire.

 

“Hey, Peter.” The voice is soft. Very, very soft. He still flinches. “Can you let the guy go? If I promise nothing bad will happen?” It takes him forty seconds to work out the words, and to match them to the actions, but eventually there’s only one person under the car. The voice scooches his six foot frame under the car. Peter shivers. He wants Ned or May or somebody who’ll-

 

“It’s okay,” the voice says. “I promise. It’s okay. A car back fired. Happened to me the first month back. I didn’t leave my apartment for three days.”

 

Peter clumsily reaches out and tugs on Steve’s sleeve. It’s Steve. Of course it’s Steve. Steve continues whispering things to him. Eventually Steve works up to carefully hugging him, and Peter keeps breathing. And somehow, without ever knowing how, Peter ends up at Matt’s with a weighted blanket (Foggy’s, definitely not Matt’s, not with Matt’s catholicism-like that’s what’s causing all his issues) with people quietly making curry.

 

“Hey, Peter,” Steve says, barely moving his lips. “I want you to eat something before you go back to sleep.” He’s handed a bowl of warm, not hot, dal. It’s all the same mushy texture that’s perfect. Peter manages two spoons before he falls back asleep.

 

His brain is less awful when he wakes. Everything feels muted and darker than yesterday. The relief is staggering. Slowly, slowly, he lifts his head, waiting for the screeching to come. It did not. Peter breathes a sigh of relief. Steve is passed out on the floor next to him.

 

And maybe it’s that Steve never got mad at him, never got frustrated with him under  a car, and somehow got him to Matt’s, which is the sensory neutral zone of New York, as much as one can get, or maybe because he made curry, but Peter doubts he will ever not be angry at Tony.

 

Peter tiptoes/stumbles out of Matt’s bed. Matt’s passed out on the couch because he’s Matt.  Peter starts the process of making eggs. There’s a text from Ned and May on his phone.

 

 **Matt called me. Let me know you’re okay** . **I called you in sick with school.** -May

 **You okay?** -Ned.

 

Peter replies to both messages and looks at the eggs like they can solve all his problems. Steve approaches him, breaking out veggies and starting to chop them up. Steve doesn’t ask how he is or anything of that nature.

 

“How’s school?” Steve asks.

 

Peter shrugs. “It’s all right. Ned, my friend, was sick yesterday so he wasn’t there. And Flash was more annoying than usual. Thanks . . . for yesterday.” Thanks for crawling under a car; thanks for getting him to Matt’s; thanks for not leaving him.

 

“Anytime,” Steve says.

 

The fourth time, Peter doesn’t meet Steve Rogers, in a way. Really  he meets Stevie “that little shit” Rogers from Brooklyn. He also meets Bucky Barnes. It’s a whole thing.

 

It starts off pretty good. Really. He’s walking along a sidewalk back from a date, which is in itself pretty shocking, he knows. And he’s smiling more than a little and humming, and he bumps into a guy who stops abruptly.

 

And the guy freaks out, swiping at where Peter’s neck was. Peter’s already on the ground, ready. The guy takes three quick steps back, and he’s fucking terrified, fucking ready for Peter to start kicking him when he’s already clearly down. Peter stands back up, careful to hold himself to present less of a threat. And whatever he looks like, people like this guy can read a threat in him

 

Peter gets that, gets it down to his bones. So he doesn’t move. New Yorkers brush around them, well used to ignoring people (that’s not fair, Peter will catch himself later).

 

The guy’s shaking a little bit. “My name’s Peter. You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t even make contact.”

 

The man nods.

 

“Do you have a place to go?” Peter has to ask. He’s not leaving this guy behind. He doesn’t leave people behind. The guy nods again. “Mind if I walk you there?” The guy tenses a little bit. “I don’t mean any harm, I just want to make sure you get there safe.”

 

“Okay,” the man eventually says. And Peter does his best to look like a high schooler, one who’s definitely going to be late to work for the second time this week. He pulls it off pretty well. The guy leads him to a VA clinic. Well, that makes a little bit more sense.

 

He heads in, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other. He walks straight into Steve, and doesn’t fucking move. “Buck, what- Peter, what are you doing here?”

 

Peter doesn’t know a calm way to explain that Bucky fucking Barnes, what the hell (he blames the hair and general mmh for not recognizing), had a mental breakdown, and nearly killed him. Peter’s not good with words like that.

 

“I bumped into him downtown, and I wanted to make sure he got to a safe place.” Steve gives him a weird look, but he doesn’t move away from Bucky. Bucky presses closer, head firmly braced against Steve’s chest. They look so soft then, like there hasn’t been wars between them both. Peter quietly accepts that he’s never going to lose his anger at Tony.

 

“Sam Wilson,” Steve’s friend introduces himself. Maybe Peter can build some kind of face recognition into his eyeballs? He thinks that it’s a little bit of him expecting these people to be larger than life, and when meeting them, they’re just people, people who wanted to do good in the world.

 

“Peter Parker.”

 

“I thought your name was Peter Lous,” Steve interrupts. Right the stairs, dumpster, and clinic. It’s all not painting a good picture.

 

“Uh, right. I um it’s my middle name. Yeah, Yup.” It’s a sin to lie to Captain America, or at least against the law or something.

 

Steve doesn’t dignify his throne of lies with a response. Go Cap. He just gives him an eyebrow that tells Peter America’s disappointed in him, along with Steve Rogers.

 

“Uh, do you want a sandwich or something?” Sam asks, after they all hear his stomach growl.

 

“Uh, no. Thanks. I need to get to work.”

 

“Oh, where do you work?” Steve asks calmly.

 

Peter hastily ducks out of there with all the haste of a jackrabbit. He makes it work only forty minutes late. It only takes them five minutes to fire him. He trudges back home. Sometimes, the day does not go according to plan. Eventually he passes out after patrol.

 

Steve stops stalking him so much. The trade off is Bucky following him around, and he also is a grad from the Clark Kent Academy. Maybe people couldn't see back in the 40s? Well, Steve was color blind so possibly Peter may have a working theory. Huh. Peter gives him half of his hot dog.

 

“Sure you can spare this?” Bucky asks. Peter shrugs. Probably not, but that’s not the way he was raised. Bucky nods, and Peter never lets himself forget that Bucky and Steve grew up poor on the ostracized part of town, so he knows that Bucky gets it.

 

They sit there quietly for a minute, peaceful.

 

“Steve can get a little overprotective-”

 

“And you’ve been stalking me for the past week-”

 

“But he has a point. There’ve been several things about your life that are suspicious.”

 

“Nah,” Peter tries, but he’s never been a good liar, not really, apart from the _No, May I got that from such and such,_ or _Ned, I’m fine_. But they probably don’t believe him anyway so it doesn’t really count.

 

“Peter,” Bucky says, and maybe it’s because it’s Bucky and not Steve, or something, not that Steve is not the right person. Steve mostly is, but Peter can’t deal with that kindness right now. Anyway, Peter comes out with it.

 

“I got fired from work, so I’ve been picking up jobs where I can. It’s nothing,” he adds quickly.

 

“You go to school,” Bucky says, voice dangerously soft.

 

“I do.”

 

“And you’re working how many jobs with that?”

 

“I-uh-I don’t know . . . three this week.”

 

“Why?” Bucky asks.

 

“My aunt works at a hospital, and that doesn’t pay well, so I help out where I can.”

 

“So she knows?”

 

“Not really, she thinks I’m on scholarship with the school, and the Stark Internship is still going, so no. She doesn’t know,” he finishes lamely.

 

“And you’re Spiderman on top of it.”

 

“What? No, I’m not.” But it’s said with the same sort of seriousness that Keanu Reeves once said he wasn’t immortal.

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I’m Steve’s best friend. I know a shit stirrer when I see one.”

 

“What? I’ve never caused any trouble in my- yeah, okay. You’re right. Just. Don’t tell anybody.”

 

“Okay, kid.”

 

“And I’m not a shit stirrer,” Peter protests.

 

“You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet and regularly take on monsters.”

 

“Yeah, but like for the good of the world.”

 

“And you go out there with no backup. That’s why I’ve ‘stalking’ you.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. I’m used to this bullshit after Steve.”

 

“You know,” Peter starts with a glint in his eye, “The history says he’s the most wholesome, nicest man in the whole, wide world.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Nah, really, you can look it up on wikipedia.”

 

“Huh. Now back to the three jobs, and school bullshit.”

 

“I can’t stop,” Peter says, looking at his hands.

 

“You talk to Stark about that Internship?”

 

And Peter grows cold. “No. I’m not going to either. What he did was wrong, no matter how y’all made it up or-”

 

“Kid-”

 

“No. I’m not going to talk to him.” Peter jumps off the roof and swings away. It’s a pretty handy trick to get out of the closet.

 

And he damn well knows that Tony would help him (probably). That’s what makes it so hard, to keep struggling because of  . . . he knows he’s right. It’s definitely stupid, but it’s the _right_ thing, and if Peter was one to let things go now, he wouldn’t care. And he wouldn’t be leaping off of buildings, but don’t tell Aunt May any of that.

 

He goes to Ned’s.

 

“Am I being stupid?” he asks before Ned even gets the door fully open.

 

“About what?”

 

“Stark.”

 

“No.” Peter nods. Ned leads him off to the bed, calls May, doesn’t ask any other questions. And he’s never going to not be friends with Ned.

 

It makes it a little better when Stark’s on Peter’s doorstep the next evening. Ned hauls off and punches him. In the face. Peter hopes to God that Ned’s security camera still works, because he _needs_ it on film.

 

Tony staggers, and catches his balance. Ned steps in front of Peter, and Peter gently tucks him back behind him. It’s not because he’s worried that Tony will lash out, but because Ned is _his_ to protect, and Ned doesn’t need Tony’s perhaps rightful anger.

 

“Not sorry,” Ned growls from behind Peter’s back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says finally, whipping the flecks of blood of his face. Peter’s a little proud of Ned, and more than a little bit angry with him.

 

“Right,” Peter says at last.

 

“I am. Steve and I got over our issues several months ago.”

 

“That’s great for you guys. Steve’s a bigger person than I am so I-”

 

“Peter, who’s that at the door?” Aunt May calls, and Tony manages to duck around Peter and step inside.

 

“I was in the neighborhood,” Tony says to May. May looks like she also wants to hit him for that bullshit, and possibly just wants to hit him in general.

 

“Good. I was just about to set dinner on the table,” May says all peaceable like, and Peter quietly prays that there’s a criminal emergency that he can jump out the window for. Anything. The criminals don’t decide to take over the world then. Contrary assholes. Peter would give anything to avoid the hellish fight that’s going to spring between Tony and May.

 

May knows he’s Spiderman. May knows he’s working for Stark. May has a reason to be furious.

 

She slams the casserole down on the table, narrowly missing Tony’s hands. Peter manfully resists the urge to faceplant into the table. Ned looks at the whole thing with a smile hanging around his mouth.

 

“What did you tell Peter?” May asks. Tony doesn’t say a word. “What made you talk a _child_ into squaring off against super heroes in a stupid attempt to take down _your_ enemies?”

 

And okay, Peter’s a little happy that May’s wrath is aimed at somebody else. Seriously, he wouldn’t be surprised that she’s not an agent or something.

 

“I apologize for putting him in the crosshairs,” Tony said after a long moment.

 

May flat glares at him. “And as for avoiding my calls-”

 

“You’ve been calling him?!” Peter interrupts. He quiets immediately when faced with May’s rage. Smart kid. Wise kid. Ned bites into the food, and ignores all of it. He punched TONY STARK, he’s done his bit.

 

“I’m sorry for avoiding your calls.”

 

“Hm,” she grunts.

 

“I am. Really sorry. I wasn’t trying to create problems for you.” And there’s something to his tone that catches Peter’s attention. Stark knows. “I’m going to pay Peter more, nothing to do with Avengers. I want him to work with Dr. Banner to establish better safety protocols for airplanes.”

 

And that’s a loaded sentence all right.

 

“No,” Peter says firmly. He loads his plate up with food. “I’m not working for you anymore, and I’m not about to start.”

 

“You quit the internshi-this is why you’ve been coming home late from school?” May asks.

 

Peter nods. “I’ve been taking care of it.”

 

“Matt would disagree,” Ned responds.

 

“The legal internship I’ve been doing,” Peter explains.

 

“Don’t forget the two other jobs you’ve picked up,” Tony adds, because he’s so helpful like that. He tries to be at least.

 

“It’s fine,” Peter protests.

 

“As compensation for -” Tony waves a hand to communicate everything, “I’m paying for the school tuition, followed by a sizeable fund for college. This, of course, is apart from your decision to work with Dr. Banner.”

 

“There was a decision in that?” Peter asks grumpily. Tony knows he admires Dr. Banner.

 

“Of course there is. You don’t have to have any contact with me at all-”

 

“Is this all about that nice man you brought to dinner?” May has an innocent tone. “What was his name? Bucky?” May watches more news than Peter does. She knows who Bucky is. It’s quite possible that May has more anger towards Tony than Peter does. May didn’t have an issue with him inviting a traumatized vet to their family dinner. She has an issue with Peter not bringing Steve as well.

 

“I-yes,” Tony stammers. And god, it’s nice to watch May unleashed on somebody else.

 

“Hmm.” She stares at him for a moment. He tries to smile. Peter quietly makes peace with his maker. Ned hasn’t shut his mouth yet. “You can leave now,” she says with the same tone of many a dictator. Tony hastily gets up and runs for it. They all watch him go.

 

“May I be excused?” Peter tries.

 

“No. Is that why you’ve been coming home late?” She asks. He gives her his best _what_ look. “You’ve been working three jobs, as well as that internship with Matty.” Matt lived in fear of Aunt May; it was the most adorable and well-deserved act of self-preservation Peter had ever seen him perform, although low bar.

 

“Yeah.”

 

May sighs. “And you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to worry me, never mind that I’m the adult in this house.” Peter nods. “And Ned knows.” Ned’s mouth then shuts with a click. “You haven’t eaten yet.” Peter hastily digs into his meal.

 

It’s not that he’s terrified of Aunt May, but he loves her and respects her. After Ben . . . after Ben, she’d held them up, worked several jobs, and kept them both out of trouble.

 

But she also works in an ER on full moons in New York City, so his terror of her is more than a little bit justified.

 

“You’re going to let him pay for school,” she says after they’ve all eaten. Peter opens his mouth to protest. “You can’t keep working all these jobs. In return, you are going to go to school, be a good student, and I will mostly let you continue to be Spiderman.” They both don’t say that she could stop him. She could. She really really could.

 

“Fine,” Peter snaps. She nods. He does the washing up. Bucky’s outside the window on the fire escape. Ned has gone home by now. Peter finishes the dishes and goes to join him on the metal, rickety stairs. “You’re the one who sold me out to Tony.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “Technically, it was me _and_ Steve.” Bucky rubs at his head. “You can be mad at me all you want kid, at least you won’t be working more jobs than you should.”

 

Peter glares. Bucky nods, and see himself off the fire escape. Peter stays out there for a long time, staring at his city.

 

Some days work goes well. Some days everything is cut and dry. Monster meet Spiderman. This, this is not one of those days.

 

“Easy, kid,” Peter says. “What’s your name?”

 

“What?” the teenager, probably older than Spiderman to be honest, waves the gun a little bit closer to his father. Peter shrugs at him. “Bill. My name’s Bill.”

 

“That’s a good name. You wanna put the gun down for a moment?”

 

“No, sir, no sir, I don’t.” The kid, Bill, is clearly freaking the fuck out. He’s not making eye contact with Peter, has eyes only for his father. The mother’s crying and shaking on the floor.

 

“Okay, that’s okay. I’m just going to have to ask you to not shoot anybody, okay? That’s all. Why don’t you want to put the gun down?”

 

“I can’t. I can’t.”

 

“Okay. What if I tie up your father? Easy, easy, I’m just going to step between you. Easy. That’s it.” Peter quickly webs up the father, and the mother. Bill slowly lowers the gun. “That’s it, that’s it.”

 

“I can’t go to jail.”

 

“You haven’t done anything yet. You’re not going to go to jail.” Peter silently prepares himself for a phone call with Matt. “I know a few good lawyers. Can you tell me what happened?”

 

Karen, the suit-not Karen Page although there was some thought between the two, records his night, and can produce tapes, if Bill agrees to it. It makes convictions for the police a lot easier. He tries to make it easier at least.

 

“Are you recording this?” Bill asks.

 

“I am,” Peter says. The kid nods. He’d been expecting that. Most of the superheros had started recording their patrols for the police.

 

“My dad, he uh, I-” the kid drops the gun to the ground at Peter’s feet. “He touched me. Because I . . .” the kid nearly stops. “He touched me because I’m trans.” Peter hears the man start to open his mouth, and Peter calmly, very very calmly webs it shut.

 

“Karen, can you call Daredevil, and alert him to the situation.” Matt’s a little . . . well . . . _Matt_ about kids getting hurt. Peter couldn't find it in himself to care.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“We’re going to go downtown, and I want you to talk to a lawyer of mine. Nice guy, makes really really good Indian.” Peter calmly leads the teenager out of the apartment, down the street. He takes the kid to Foggy’s, after throwing a coat over his suit.

 

“Why are we going to a lawyers?” Bill asks.

 

“Because I’m not dragging you to a police station, and I need to get you someplace safe where I can get you help.”

 

“But I nearly killed somebody.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

“I didn’t,” Bill agrees, but he’s still shaky. Matt’s office is only a block away. He gets Bill into the office. Foggy’s already there. Peter thanks his luck that Karen’s already told him. There’s a cop there as well.

 

“The police are at the apartment,” Foggy tells Peter. He doesn’t move in Bill’s direction. Karen is the one to hand Bill a cup of hot chocolate, the good spicy kind with whip cream. She smiles at him, and he relaxes a little bit. She’s one of the ones who conducts interviews, she’s good at it. She gently nudges the Bill into an office, and shuts the door.

 

“What happened?” Foggy asks.

 

“I heard a kid threatening to kill his family. I arrived on scene. He told me he was being molested by the father for being trans. I talked him down. I brought him here. I called Daredevil to secure the parents.”

 

Mikey, the cop, nods. “I got called by the police. They’re a little beaten up, but not badly enough for the hospital. Horns did a good job of it.” There’s not a hint of remorse in his voice. “I’m waiting on my partner to get here before I talk to Bill.” Peter nods. His partner’s Sarah Green. He knows her pretty well, has gotten to know all the beat cops pretty well.

 

“Okay,” is  all Peter says. “I’m hoping this doesn’t end up on the news.”

 

Foggy grins weakly. “It won’t. What did you call him? Horns? Horns will make sure it doesn’t.” That’s right. Matt has fun damaging news equipment. Peter knew Matt had tracked them to Foggy’s after securing the parents.

 

“I’ll take my leave then,” Peter says after a moment. He places the tape on Karen’s desk.

 

“Spidey, can you stay?” Bill asks. “I don’t-please?”

 

“Yeah, sure, Bill. Course I can stay.”

 

Matt gets back then. It hadn’t taken him long to turn the cops over to the police. It’d been over forty minutes, and he was a pro at changing fast. Foggy leaves him to defend their client. Matt, despite his issues with self-worth, is the best with kids. They get the story out of Bill, all the sordid details.

 

Bill gets put up with Matt, no surprise there. Matt was the best equipped to watch out for the warning signs that would almost certainly follow.

 

Peter goes home that night, is quietly violently ill. May nearly drags him to the hospital.

 

Peter does his best to avoid the news the next day. He knew it would get out. He knows that, of course the news would find _something_ to publish. That doesn’t stop him from hearing his classmates’ comments.

 

“You hear how Spidey’s protecting trannies?” It’s not Flash. Ironically. It’s Belle. Her mother is some top notch surgeon, and most notably, a leader of a transphobic group that likes to picket outside abortion clinics from time to time. Peter very carefully doesn’t say anything, keeps his head down, tells himself that you don’t hit girls, especially girls who-

 

MJ beat him to the punch.

 

So to speak.

 

Belle is slumped up against a locker from a wicked right cross. MJ is waving her hand, shaking off the pain, and he falls a little bit more in love with her in that moment of righteous fury on her face, hair whipping around her shoulders like a storm. The principal is already bearing down on her, and they all end up in the main office. May collects him with a quiet look in her eyes for him, and rage for his school. They don’t do anything besides give him three days of suspension.

 

He ends up on a fire escape for those three days, not even May can talk him to sleeping inside. It feels too confining. Matt finds him there, because of course he does. He’s Matt.

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

“You ever feel like you’re less because you’re blind? Because of Stick?” Peter asks, trying to not overthink his words, which is impossible because the English language has it in for him.

 

Matt doesn’t blurt out his answer, as he would’ve in the pre-Foggy days. “Sometimes,” he says slowly. “I’d be a different person. I wouldn’t be know the people I do, or do the things I do. And that matters. So I don’t regret it for long. Do you regret your life?”

 

Peter shakes his head. “I wish I could let some things go easier.”

 

“You ever going to tell me why you hate Tony?”

 

“I don’t like bullies. I get bullied enough at school. And what Tony did is the toddler version of _Steve is my toy, fuck you, let’s do what Nazis did_ , and I’m not going to stand for it.”

 

Matt sighs the sigh of the old, the adults. There’s like a fifteen year difference there, not the end of time, Matt. “Forgive people, Peter.”

 

“Nope. No. I’m not an adult, I don’t have to do that shit yet,” Peter protests, laughing a little bit. Matt grins, but that’s because all of his people skills have been firmly placed on the broad shoulders of _Nelson and Page_ , the actual law firm, not this _Nelson and Murdock_ crap.

 

“So you’re never going to forgive him?”

 

“No. Take his money? Yes. Grudgingly.”

 

“Are we going to talk about what that was, with Bill?”

 

“Sure,” Peter says sarcastically. “Let’s talk about how some guy touched me in my no-no square, and I-”

 

“I was raped in college,” Matt says, determinedly staring out at the city. There’s a brick wall, and you can’t really see past it. Matt probably knows that better than Peter. Peter’s not really thinking about that though. He’s completely frozen. “I got drunk one night, and this girl took me home. I was plastered, kept saying no.” He smiles a little bit. Peter wants to break something. “Supposedly I enjoyed it. Foggy took me to the ER the next day when I didn’t move from my bed, talked me into going.”

 

“Matt, I-”

 

“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry, or any of that bullshit. I just want you to be aware of what you did for Bill, for giving him that support. I don’t want you to be mad at the world. You’re too kind for that. You need to be better than Tony Stark, better than Steve Rogers, no, you are, Peter. Steve fought wars for his friend. You’d fight wars for a complete stranger.”

 

“Steve would too,” Peter protests, too stunned to protest the other things in Matt’s random amount of sharing.

 

“Maybe,” Matt agrees because Matt is still a dick with a lot of issues about the Avengers apparently, “But you wouldn’t even think twice.” And while that’s a little unfair towards the Avengers, Peter catches Matt’s drift.

 

“If you ever want to talk-” Peter starts.

 

Matt laughs a little bit. Peter grins back. “You talk to Foggy?” Matt nods, and that’s good enough for Peter for the moment at least. Foggy’s Matt’s Sam Wilson in a way.

 

And somehow the whole story comes out. Some reporter connected a few dots, and suddenly _Spiderman Victim!_ Gets splashed across every newspaper. Jameson loses his shit over all of it, and surprisingly, mounts a counter attack across the newspapers who are calling Spiderman a liar.

 

Peter goes to school, goes home, goes to sleep. He doesn’t talk to Ned, not even May can get him to say more than five words. He ends up at the park most nights. Steve tracks him down despite that depressive attitude.

 

“Hey,” Steve says, strolling on up like this was a previously agreed upon meeting place.

 

“Are you stalking me?” Peter asks.

 

“What? No. I’d-yeah, yeah, but only because I worry.”

 

“Steve, you got enough to worry without-”

 

“I like you, Peter, and I’m sorry for dropping a bridge on you.” Peter freezes. Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “You are the least subtle spider I’ve ever met.”

 

“Well, I’m up against Natasha Romanov. Cut me some slack.” Steve laughs at him. “You’re not mad at me?”

 

“No. Just. Let your beef with Tony go.”

 

“I can’t do that, Cap.” And he can’t. Peter knows people make mistakes, but that’s a little different than labeling friends public enemies for shits and giggles. Steve stares at him. Peter stares back, because this may be Steve Rogers, but Peter learned to be stubborn from an ER nurse. “Let it go, you’re not going to win this one.”

 

“Peter-”

 

“Nope. Tony’s a bully, and I’m not taking it.” Steve keeps giving him an eyeball. “I’d never make Ned wanted by Interpol. That’s not a thing. He’s not going to suddenly decide that he wants Aunt May, and my reaction is friendly fire.”

 

“He wants Aunt May in this-”

 

“Closest I could come up with. It’s not like all of us have super assassins in our closets.”

 

“Oh, son. We’re not in the closet.” The look on Steve’s face is positively wolfish.

 

Peter blinks for a second. “Good for y’all.” Steve nods. “And that clears up Tony’s pissiness.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Bucky had to be naked, dancing in front of you for you to catch a hint, huh?” Steve turns bright red, which means yes. “Tony’s jealous, and probably wants to bang both of you.” Steve starts spluttering. Somewhere MJ is proud of him succeeding in sharing blunt truths with his friends. Peter beats a good retreat while he’s ahead of Steve for once.

 

MJ’s on his doorstep. She hasn’t been crying or anything, that’s not who she is. She used to cry a lot in corners. Now, she punches bigots in the face, drags Ned and Peter to protest rallies, and studies law because this fucking matters, and she . . . she won’t be forgotten anymore.

 

“I used to be called Michael James Watson,” she says slowly, carefully, staring at Peter.

 

“Okay,” he says, meeting them. He doesn’t say _I know_ , she probably knows that he already does. Michelle doesn’t do many things she hasn’t thought through twenty or so times. He could learn a thing or two from her.

 

“I need you to know that, if we keep doing this.” She gestures between them.

 

“Okay. I love dating you,” he says simply, and that’s not enough. “I love that you split twizzlers with me, that you don’t have a problem with me sleeping over with Ned, and that you smile when there’s a storm, and that you have the neatest cross I’ve ever seen. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Peter catches himself before he sighs. “I-I was abused as a kid, by my babysitter. It was a while ago, but I may not be ready to have sex-”

 

“Woah, woah-”

 

“I might never be ready. That’s what I’ve been waiting to tell you.”

 

“And you know Steve Rogers.”

 

“Yeah, but everybody knows Steve Rogers.”

 

“You don’t . . . you don’t have to lie to-”

 

Peter shakes his head. “My issues about sex is everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you.”

 

“Okay.” She believes him. They hug, sitting on cement steps. It doesn’t heal everything, but it damn well mends something.

 

Peter will meet Captain America one day in a fight with monsters and falling buildings, but he fights with the man because that man is one Steve Rogers, a little shit from Brooklyn, like Brooklyn is better than Queens or something.

**Author's Note:**

> google docs recognizes dumpstering as a word. I want to be clear. I like Tony Stark, I do. But Peter, for all he’s been through, is still a kid and he has Ideas about right and wrong. Me: this will be a quick prompt about Steve and Peter. Peter: *makes no attempt to cover up anger*. Me: fine. I also started this before Thanos, and to be real, we all need fluff. The reason why MJ is trans is because I wanted to do the writers’ goddamn job for them, and explain why she goes by Michelle, as well as some other stuff but it just really made sense to me.
> 
> Comments are always welcome.


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